Journeys

Sunday, 30 April 2017

A poem from Rumi, resonating on multiple levels in this season of renewal and rebirth. You just can't go wrong with Rumi.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

The act of not-writing a poem/script/song, in this instance, is a clever means of doing just that. Evocative. Mysterious. My prayers and blessings to you and yours. Not sure which of the two is more needed, so covering all bases.

Friday, 25 November 2016

This is the third in a series of reflections on significant people in my life during my formative years. I think I may still working through those formative years! The first two are about my dad and my mom.

I've known Irving for over 40 years now. He's married to my mom, but I've always described him first as a friend. One who happens to be married to my mom. He's had a huge impact on my life. His birthday was earlier this month, on the 13th.

Friday, 07 October 2016

I just finished listening to an episode of one of my top, go-to podcasts: the Enormocast. The Enormocast is focused on climbing. It definitely covers areas most non-climbers won't have any clue as to what being discussed. Yet, to paraphrase its host Chris Kalous, there really isn't anything else to talk about! And even if so, why would anyone even want to talk about something other than climbing? The beauty of Chris is that while talking about only climbing, he manages to cover a lot of other really interesting human aspects within the context of climbing. And he does it quite well.

While this episode with big wall climber Cheyne Lempe is about a big wall expedition to the extremely remote and cold Baffin Island, it's really about a lot more that just the climbing. It touches on journeys, generalized anxiety (as a medical affliction), and quite a few other thought-provoking topics.

I too have generalized anxiety. It’s not been all that long that I’ve been able to name it specifically, but as Cheyne touched upon, it’s been something that’s been part of my journey and growth pretty much my whole life. It’s only recently that I’ve begun to see how it has been at play in the past. Sometimes with mental health disorders, people tend to take a negative view, e.g. “I suffer from x.” I don’t quite see it that way. For me, anxiety can be both my greatest curse and greatest gift. As I’ve become friends with anxiety, gotten to know it better, and really have owned it, I’ve seen how I’ve let it channel me into the abyss of despair and paralysis. But I’ve also seen how it has helped me achieve incredible commanding heights. Much of this is about your brain and how it’s wired. Anxiety people have minds that think a lot… to the point of potentially harmful overthinking! I can use my brain to scare and talk myself out of everyday actions that otherwise could give me immense benefit. Or I can learn to flip the downward spiral and use my mind with all of its thoughts and ideas to spin them into great creations.

One of my favorite observations: A hammer is a tool. In and of itself, it’s neutral. It’s what you use it for that has impact (yeah, bad pun!). You can use a hammer to build a home for someone who really needs a good, safe shelter. Or you can use it to bash their skull in. Same hammer, different outcomes. One good, one bad. The hammer is neither.

Sunday, 25 September 2016

A month ago, I wrote about my dad on his 75th birthday (Oh Father Wither Thou Goest). Unlike him, I do know where my mom is. And not only do we know how to find each other, we regularly and deeply connect. We speak often. Still, you can count on her to hunt me down if I allow these connections to get spaced too far apart! In those instances, she knows that I've typically been working hard taking care of my kids, family, and home. And she deeply appreciates what this is all about.

Everyone should have a parent like my mom. In addition to being a mother, she is a friend, a teacher, and a guide. Someone who is consistently supportive and can listen without judgment. I am the man I am today, in large part because of my mom. And for this, I am profoundly grateful.

Following are a few of the gifts she has given me. Some date to my childhood. All are helpful to me to this very day. They guide my own choices and I pass them along to others as the need arises.

"You can be whatever you want to be, if you want to be it hard enough."

"Imagine the worst thing that could happen. Pretend it's real for a moment. Is is really so bad? Very often, it's not and you'll survive and be ok or better." (Important words for someone who has lived with generalized anxiety!)

Learning for the sake of learning. The importance and beauty of the humanities. Lifelong education.

Watching her transform and evolve from the devoted full-time mom to a full time college student (at 29 the oldest undergraduate at Clark University—extraordinary in the 1970's!) And then on to a accomplished, inspired career as an admired leader in adult education.

Her passion to care for and nurture her children, partners, family, friends, colleagues, and... on more than one occasion, near strangers who would often later become good friends. Here is a persistence and dedication that goes beyond basic compassion.

In all things, there are extremes. Compassion and nurturing can drift toward a need to "fix" others. Sometimes, as hard as it is to watch, people are often best served when they can heal and evolve themselves. I saw how hard she tried to be there for my dad, and I've seen how sometimes she feels to have somehow failed me and my brothers—perhaps because she didn't help him "enough." This is just plain wrong. She did help. It would have been great to have a more fully present father and she did all that she could to encourage that. That didn't work out with him so well. But what she did do was to directly care and nurture me and my brothers in ways wonderful and loving—and that still unceasingly continue. This is her legacy and it continues forward, within me for sure, and I hope with my own children.

This legacy did not arise spontaneously. There is a great lineage of nurturing women in our family: her mom—my grandma Pauline, great grandma Rose, great aunt Helen, and many others with which I'm only vaguely familiar or not familiar at all. They are not forgotten. They reside within me. And so they carry on their good work via her. I'm honored and proud to be part of this lineage. It's a legacy that I whole-heartedly embrace.

Happy Birthday Mom! May this year be one of continued good health and of celebration!

Saturday, 27 August 2016

Today is my Dad's 75th birthday. Wishing him the very best. I just don't know where he is. He does know how to find me.

And the door is open. It has been for a long time. I don't bite. And you are welcome here. It can't hurt to try... though there is a lot of rebuilding work to do. And I've recently come to better see why it may be so challenging for you to walk through that door.

Anyway, regardless of all that, there is much I'm thankful for that you have given me:

Being present at my birth and going to far reaches to make that happen in a time when the medical community and culture did not recognize the great value of being present at and assisting in the birth of your own child.

Imbuing a love for the outdoors and wild places. You never quite ventured into them as far as you wanted. But I have picked up that legacy and taken it much farther. And I'm now passing this connection with wild places on to my own children.

The deep and brilliant intelligence that you have passed on to me. I now understand how that can be, at times, both a curse and a great gift. And I understand how you struggled and suffered with your own parents. Please forgive them if you haven't already. Even partially if that's all you can do for now. They were, like all parents really, just trying to do the best for you with what they knew. It wasn't always a lot, and much of it was misdirected, but I don't believe they had ill intent. I do wonder how they got to be who they were, especially your dad. His family life prior to the years with grandma and you are, I suspect, a lost Scandinavian saga. The keys lie within that story, I'm sure of it. But we can't likely find them anymore. We just have make do and accomplish the best we can with what we have been given. Paradoxically it feels like I've been given an abundance and for this I feel much gratitude. I know that you too did the best you could with your innate resourcefulness with respect to me and my brothers. You have long been forgiven by me.

Happy birthday dad. I hope that, wherever you are on your own journey, you've found peace, inspiration and contentment.

Tuesday, 09 August 2016

The most brave are the most vulnerable. The general leading the very front of the charge. Black folks sitting at an all white lunch counter in the 1950's. An Afghani girl getting an education. Understanding that your anxiety is both a challenge and a gift.

Being brave = being vulnerable. Owning and seeing the power and beauty in your imperfections. It's allowing you to reveal your whole self with its imperfections and strengths, and, to paraphrase John Cage, realizing that it's all beautiful in the end.

Inspiration and gratitude to Gigi Yogini and Brene Brown. 🙏 And to Jeremy Collin's for his Instagram post that asked and welcomed musings on the meaning of bravery.

"Always changing, never twice the same..." (Robert Irwin). One of the beautiful elements of this world. I try to remember it every day. The dirtbagdad is always evolving. Sometime the movement is a few steps back, but in the long view, it's always forward.